


Never Too Big for Family

by sid_pinetree



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst about Jason's death, Body Dysmorphia, Body Dysphoria, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, Good Older Sibling Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Past Child Death, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting, he tries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27638897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sid_pinetree/pseuds/sid_pinetree
Summary: Jason Todd, at age fifteen, had died weighing 87 pounds.Jason Todd, at age nineteen, no longer dead or malnourished weighed 230 pounds.Sometimes Jason feels like he outgrew his place in his family's hearts.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 54
Kudos: 702





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's time for my first multichapter fic. Hopefully, the characterization is spicy and not a wet newspaper.

Jason Todd, at age fifteen, had died weighing 87 pounds.

Jason Todd, at age nineteen, no longer dead or malnourished weighed 230 pounds.

When Jason had first seen that number on his death certificate he had felt sick because he had not weighed 87 pounds at the start of that year. He had been pushing a respectable 120, hoping a growth spurt would up both his height and weight class. But then Felipe Garzonas had died. Bruce avoided him at every turn and any food he managed to keep down, Jason would lose to nerves at the side of a toilet bowl. His death had also resulted in substantial blood loss, which may have accounted for one or two pounds.

Jason had been 5’3. He was now 6’1. He always wanted to be tall but this vast difference sometimes threw him off. When he was impaired, the sight of his hands sucker-punched him out of his body. They were so big. The worst part was being in the manor. His room felt too small for him. All of the clothes that belonged to fifteen-year-old Jason did not fit, at all. His soft, warm sweaters, his Wonder-Woman socks, his favorite red hoodie for the nights he missed his mom, none of them fit. He couldn’t fit into any of the nooks or holes he used to hide in to read. It was one of the reasons he couldn’t stand to be in the manor anymore. He didn’t fit right.

The cave was better but still stung, with his old Robin costume on display. The words _A Good Soldier_ may have filled him with rage but that tiny little costume made him want to throw up. The Pit had changed so much about Jason but it refused to take away Jason’s propensity towards vomiting when he was upset. It took the malnutrition, part of the pigment in his hair, permanently left his hair _fucking_ black, stole the blue of his eyes, and made them toxic green but of course, it left him with anxiety-induced vomiting. Because you know, you’re allowed to keep the shittest things about yourself even though almost everything else that has been forcibly altered makes you scared that you aren’t even who you were before. Like do you have Jason Todd’s soul or are you some fucked up thing that’s been shoved into his corpse with his memories?

And _God_. Sometimes Jason wished he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night wondering that because even his memories were fucked up. So many little moments stolen by the green waters or scrambled and reframed with shattered picture frames.

  
  


Jason was at the bat-computer, looking up some files related to a trafficking case that he was undertaking, hunched over and stiff as the rest of the inhabitants were messing around. Bruce was in Hong Kong, visiting Cass and getting updates on the local Wayne Enterprises’ state of affairs so Jason, had been far less reluctant returning to the cave when Dick had suggested he come to the cave after a rough patrol. He had needed those files anyway and it was always a bitch hacking in, especially since Oracle often kicked him out when he was in the middle of reading files. Total bitch-ass move, Babs. Could at least block him entirely instead of yanking him out halfway through, at least that was when she wasn’t tracking his cases, trying to crash them.

So far, no had bothered him other than being loud. He appreciated that even if their laughter made him feel a little left out, but he honestly didn’t know what he would say if he was invited to their little R&R in the cave fest. New kid’s voice caught his attention (Darrien? Doak?).

“No way, man. That sounds like some hazing thing.”

“No, it’s a Robin tradition,” Dick insisted. “Before you guys, I used to do it with Bruce, and then Jason and I did it a few times.”

Jason’s attention shifted entirely to Dick now. Robin tradition? What Robin tradition? Getting ice cream? Train-surfing?

“B’s like super lame about it these days but I’ve done it with all the Robins.”

Damian snorted. “Even Fatgirl?”

There was a smack and the sounds of struggle as Damian responded to Steph’s physical reprimand. She wrapped her arm around Damian’s neck and gave him a pretty nasty noogie. “To answer your no doubt so sincere question, Bat Brat, yep. It’s fun.”

Duke (?) shook his head, still not looking convinced. “No way.”

Replacement moved past Duke to Dick and gave him a very put upon hand gesture. Dick’s smile widened and he stuck his arm straight out, Tim immediately latching to the offered arm, swinging back and forth. Jason froze because he remembered this.

His fractured memories told of a tense, tenuous brotherly relationship between Jason and Dick only broken up by spontaneous trips to arcades and scenic resorts. Those things were nice but Jason’s favorite memories of his brother when he was Robin was when Nightwing, in his outrageous blue and gold suit, would hold up his arm, Jason swinging wildly as both boys giggled. For a moment, it wasn’t Tim swinging from Dick’s arm but a smaller, happy Jason Todd who still believed Robin gave him magic. The illusion was broken as Tim soared off Dick’s arm, ending with a flip. In an unusual show of showmanship, Tim gave a dramatic bow to Duke and smirked at him.

“Up for it?”

Duke rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away, unfortunately meeting Jason’s eyes. He cringed and drew his gaze back to the group. “Yeah. Still a hard pass. Ugh, maybe ask, Hood?”

Jason did his best to remain impassive as the rest of the cave turned to him. He had been mostly indifferent to the new kid before but now Jason wanted to stab him. Steph barely looked at him before she was pushing her fist against her mouth, trying in vain to hold back a laugh. Fuck you too, blondie. Any confidence Tim may have had while showing off to Duke looked like it had deflated like a sad party balloon. He was looking nervously up at Jason like he expected Jason to lose it, which to be fair was an on the nose concern. Steph’s little snickers were grating Jason’s nerves as well as Demon Brat’s unimpressed glare. But worst of all was Dick.

Dick’s smile had grown wider at the suggestion and he turned toward Jason with a bounce.

“Little Wing, do you want to swing?”

There was no way Dick was so oblivious to the issues with that invitation. He had to be mocking him. Dick could be an ass but was he really that cruel.

“No,” He snarled, keeping his voice as level as possible. He stood up from the computer chair and slammed it against the desk with enough force for it to fall over. He was half tempted to do something childish like kick it or throw it at Dick, but he reined himself in, stomping towards the exit that led to the study so that he didn’t have to pass any of the people on the ground. As he slammed the clock shut, he felt his rage soar even higher because he had to leave his bike in the cave.

He needed out of here pronto before he broke something. He didn’t want to make any extra work for Alfred. He forced himself to be quiet as he made his way to the garage. He didn’t want to see Alfred today. He didn’t want to yell or say anything rude or be comforted. He just wanted to go back to his safe house and punch a dummy. Or maybe shoot a rapist. Whichever came first.

Entering the garage, he swept his eyes over the cars until he could find the cheapest, most out of date model available. It would still probably get boosted from wherever he left it but he wanted something more subtle for heading back to Park Row, not that anyone bothered calling it that these days. Near the back, he was startled to see the car that Bruce had been teaching him to drive before he died. It was the most out of date model and looked rougher than the other cars. It would pass.

Jason made a beeline over to the car, not even bothering to look for the keys. It was open anyway, so Jason only bothered with hotwiring the thing. He tore out of the garage quickly after that.

Unfortunately, the conversation from the cave kept coming back to him so right before the highway he had to pull over to calm down.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Dick was 5’10 and weighed 175 pounds. Even removing how awkward it would be to swing Jason’s tall body, Dick’s could only lift a max of 200 pounds. While Dick could push past that for emergencies, such as moving rubble or hulling Jason’s unconscious ass to the batmobile, doing it from one arm while Jason’s center of gravity was in constant shift would not make for a pleasant experience. Dick would most certainly drop Jason and even if he could pull it off for a little while Jason knew Dick would regret it.

It wouldn’t be as fun as it was, for either of them, or Jason’s weight would strain Dick’s arm too much, and he could get hurt, get pulled from patrol, and it would be all Jason’s fault.

“Agh!” he screamed as he began slamming his fists against the wheel, sometimes hitting the horn. Tears were streaming down his face hot and fast now, and god he wanted a cigarette so bad but he had tossed all of his. Maybe he should smoke more, he thought darkly. He could lose a bit of weight. He slammed his head back on the headrest at the thought. He couldn’t, didn’t need to lose weight. Most of his weight was muscle and it wasn’t healthy to force himself to lose weight just because he was upset that he was too big to swing on Dick’s arm like he used to.

Even still, had he stashed any cigs in this car before he died? He needed one, or at least a mint, something to calm him down.

He roughly opened the center console. It was empty bar a single key. He stared at it for a few minutes, recognizing it as the key to the car. _He hot-wired this stupid car for nothing. Goddamnit_. Hastily, unbuckling his seatbelt, he dove forward and began rifling through the glove compartment. For a car so rarely used it had a lot of shit in its glove box.

The envelope that had been set on the top of the pile slid out and under the passenger seat. Jason cursed. Today was just not his day. He reached under the seat and pulled it out, ready to shove it back where he found it but he was startled to see his name penned on it in Bruce’s clear, flowy script.

He closed his eyes, placing the envelope down beside him in the passenger seat. He took several deep breaths and covered his eyes. Read it now, or wait until he was in his safehouse. In the end, Jason’s curiosity beat out his apprehension and he clumsily opened the letter.

_Happy 16th, Jaylad._

_I know you’d probably call getting you a car for your 16th “stereotypically boogie”_ _but I thought you might like the freedom a car would allow you when this old man of yours is being stupid. I know it is an expensive gift and before you protest I’ve already set it up for Wayne Enterprises to donate double the full price of this car to a charity of your choice. Hopefully, you didn’t find this too early but it’s been a rough couple of weeks since that night and I needed to practice how to say this to you. I love you Jason and I will never stop loving you, regardless of what may have happened. I’m sorry I’ve been distant. I’ve just been scared for you. By the time you’ve read this, Alfred has probably already forced me to pull my head out of my ass and speak to you but if not, know that I’m sorry that I couldn’t gather the courage to tell you._

_Love,_

~~_Dad_~~ _Bruce_

Jason tugged frantically on the door, falling out onto the dirt, vomiting what little food he had managed to get down before patrol. Goddamnit, he should have waited. He braced his fist against the passenger door, trying to ground himself but almost fell forward into his own sick as he slid against the door. There was a smear of blood where his knuckles had moved across the silver paint, and he was frightened to note he had split his knuckles.

He wrapped his arms around himself and forced his eyes shut, trying to hold back a scream. Why couldn’t he stop being reminded of all the things he had lost and would never get back? 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick tries to figure out what has Jason upset. As he tries to investigate the issues of the present he is haunted by his past failures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and/or commented on the last chapter.

Dick frowned as he watched Jason storm off. He wondered what had upset him this time. It was always difficult for Dick to pin down the causes of Jason’s moods these days. As a kid, Jason was always in his head, keeping what hurt close to him, striking out sparely. There had been a time when Jason had everyone convinced that he was doing well, that he was well adjusted. That everything was fine. Dick should have looked at things a little closer back then. Nowadays, Jason hid everything with rage and snark instead of model behavior and good grades. Everything was still in his head.

Sometimes Dick wished he could cleave Jason’s skull in two and dive into it. That he was privy to his thoughts, could walk through Jason’s memories as Jason so he could understand him. He felt he knew Duke’s thoughts more intimately than he ever knew Jason’s, and he had hardly spent any time with the kid yet. He had years with Jason before he died, years that he had squandered, leaving him scrambling to connect what he knew of the child to the man Jason had become.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him,” Duke mumbled.

“Tt. Don’t trouble yourself, Thomas. Todd’s a time bomb.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Tim grumbled, crossing his arms.

Dick grabbed Damian’s shoulders before he could lunge at Tim. He tried to focus on stopping the impending fight but he was still swept up in what had upset Jason. Someone else could manage them.

Had Jason been embarrassed by Dick’s offer? Had he thought Dick insincere in his offer? Maybe Jason was mad at him for trying to play at being the perfect big brother again. Nevermind the fact that Dick had always failed all his siblings in some way and had never claimed to be good at this big brother gig. Dick wished Cass was here, or that he, himself could read all the little details of Jason’s body language and figure out why he was upset.

Anger was never the whole story, at least in Dick’s experience. He remembered the shouting and the fury between Bruce and him when Jason was a child, thick walls of rage that hid Bruce’s fear and Dick’s insecurities. The you’re fired, that screamed _you almost died. I love you please don’t make me bury you._ The screw you’s, the I don’t need you that didn’t understand, that asked _am I not good enough for you?_ The shouting was getting louder. He ignored it. He tried to imagine himself in Jason’s shoes. His annoying older brother asks him to do an activity that happened before his violent death. A lot of these memories are covered with anger due to feeling like it was a lie. _He’s right, you know. You remember how hollow all of that bonding was. You were hardly a brother, let alone a big brother. You failed him like you always fail everyone._

A large thud pushed those thoughts away.

“Get off me, brat! You’re only proving my point!”

Dick pinched his nose. Duke was standing off to the side looking awkward while Stephanie was goading Tim and Damian on. Why did he always have to defuse these situations? Maybe he would like to focus on his other siblings for five minutes. He missed being an only child. Sometimes.

  
  


Dick stood in front of the door, the door to Jason’s childhood bedroom. He had only gone in there once after Jason had died. He had held onto Jason’s carefully mended teddy bear and sobbed, wishing that little brothers could be mended like stuffed toys. But little brothers were not toys that could be put on shelves, to be picked up and played with when you felt like trying to be a good brother. They were living breathing people, with beating hearts and indescribable feelings, that bleed on warehouse floors thousands of miles away because you were in space and he couldn’t call you. Little brothers had fragile shattered bones with lungs filled with smoke that couldn’t be cleaned who died in your father’s arms while you weren’t there.

He closed his eyes and pushed the memories away. Jason was alive now. He could fix what was wrong now. He was older now. He had to remember he had been a child too, that he had barely been an adult. That there had been nothing anyone could do. Not even Superman. He turned the knob and entered the room, the time capsule that belonged to the fifteen-year-old who had died. It looked the same as it had been on that day and as spotless as ever. He swallowed tightly and went in, closing the door behind him. The bed creaked as he sat down and Jason’s teddy stared at him, unchanged. He had never asked after the teddy bear’s name. Did Jason miss this bear like he would miss Zitka if he ever lost her?

He should bring it to Jason and some of the books too. Bruce might get upset but everything in here belonged to Jason. Maybe that’s why Jason hadn’t done anything with the room, had never stayed in the room after he got back, afraid that any disturbances made to a dead boy’s tomb would strain their already frayed relationship. He felt something against the back of his heel as he kicked nervously. Reaching under the bed, he pulled out a small red hoodie. Jason had almost always been wearing this hoodie, that and his sweaters. Dick held the jacket in front of his face taking in how small it was.

It was odd that it was under the bed as last time he had been here it had been on the back of the desk chair---

Jason had been here of course. It had been silly for Dick to assume Jay had completely avoided his old room. He must have been here at least once. Bruce wouldn’t have touched the hoodie, wouldn’t even pass the thershold, and Alfred only went in here to dust, he never touched anything. The rest of the kids would never dare, Duke too unsure of his place, Cass being uninterested in going through Jason’s things, and Tim although obsessed with Jason as a kid would never dare to anger him. Even Damian would not dare disturb the room knowing how Bruce would respond. But it was Jay’s room and even if he chose not to take anything, he would move whatever he wanted.

Why shove the hoodie under the bed though? Why not hang it in the closet? Jason had and still was very neat. Why would he shove it under the bed? It didn’t make sense.

Jay had loved it, Dick vaguely remembered it being from his mom. Jason loved Catherine, he wouldn’t be so callous with one of the last things he had from her. He would want to wear it---

It was too small. The hoodie would not fit Jason. It wouldn’t fit Dick, let alone Jason who was so much bigger than he had been at fifteen. Jason was bigger than Dick, way bigger. Huge compared to the last time he had swung Jason on his arm. He tried to recall Jason’s face when he had offered but he couldn’t quite remember his expression. He could remember the tightness of his body, the chair slamming against the desk and slamming into the floor but he couldn’t remember his initial reaction.

Had he been insulted by Dick’s offer or sad because he couldn’t take it up? Mad because he thought Dick was offering something he couldn’t do? Dick’s top sustained lift was 200 pounds and if he could recall Jay’s file right, Jay was about 230 now, a bit more than Bruce. He had hoisted Jay up into a fireman’s carry before but he had never had to hold him for more than fifteen minutes without adrenaline pumping through his body nor did he have to do it from a single forearm.

Jason was so big now. Was that why he never stayed in the manor, where everything that was Jason’s belonged to a smaller boy, a less traumatized boy?

Bruce would be able to swing Jay, being both taller and stronger than Dick. Bruce, that madman, could lift upwards of 1000 pounds. Dick couldn’t change his height but he could make himself stronger, strong enough to swing Jay like he was Robin again. That is if Jay wanted Dick to swing him.

Regardless of whether Jason would be receptive to swinging on Dick’s arm, it wouldn’t hurt for Dick to up the amount he could lift for sustained periods. It would be useful for moving rubble and hulling gigantic little brothers because heaven knows that Jason wouldn’t be Dick’s only little brother to surpass him in height and weight if Damian’s encroaching growth spurt had anything to say about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed that chapter. The fic is officially going to be four chapters (unless the muse starts beating me but unlikely). The next chapter will be for Bruce's pov and it's so long! I love it. We'll end with Jason's chapter and hopefully reach catharsis. Again, if there are any tags you think should be added comment down below.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is very concerned for Dick and Jason when he gets back from his trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about splitting this chapter but then I was like no. Only Jason gets to pov twice in this, since it's a fic about him. Also, long chapters are fantastic!

Bruce was worried about Dick. Ever since Bruce had returned from visiting Cassandra, Dick had been hitting the weights like the world was going to end. When Bruce had asked him why he was interested in bulking up, Dick had claimed it was to improve his skills as Nightwing. Bruce was skeptical of this angle, mostly because Dick was pushing himself to the same extent Bruce pushed himself. He could freely admit he was a hypocrite because he did not feel comfortable with Dick pushing himself as far as he did.

He had dragged Bruce to the mall thirteen times in the past two weeks, twittering about the bedding sections and the big and tall clothes but never buying anything. All of the clothes he looked at were too big for him and he was making clear efforts to divert from his usual style of bright, fashion-forward clothes. He seemed torn between punk and prep clothes but always put the preppy clothes back roughly while muttering to himself about thinking about the present, not the past. Sometimes he would have an entirely too big punk wardrobe all ready to be paid for but before they made it to the counter he would frown at the clothes, put them back, and they would leave having bought nothing.

If Bruce had not been so concerned over this behavior, he would have lost it in Macy's last week and ended up on the front page of the Gotham Gazette with some second rate Vicky Vale questioning how he treated his adult son. Dick had also been staring at Jason’s room more often asking anyone who passed by if they thought Jason would appreciate them repainting the room, getting him a new shelf, or upgrading his computer. Bruce wondered why he wasn’t just asking Jason these questions, since it was his opinion he was asking after.

Speaking of Jason, he had also been acting weird as well. He didn’t seem to be mad at Bruce but anytime he began to pass Batman on patrol, the Red Hood would veer sharply to get away from Batman. He had almost crashed into a wall yesterday and he had still not come back to the cave to retrieve his bike. Tim had told him that while he was gone, Jason had stormed out and left it there, and hadn’t returned since. Bruce wondered if it had anything to do with the car Jason had taken.

When Bruce had discovered it was missing he had been furious but had lost steam as soon as he realized Jay had taken it. The car was Jason’s, had been meant for Jason. He remembered going to the garage on Jay’s birthday and staring at the car for hours. He had wanted to smash it, set it on fire, sell it for parts, anything to make it go away but he had left it in the garage at the end of the night, untouched. They had spent hours together in that car as just Bruce and Jay, father and son, a dad teaching his boy to drive to pass a driving test instead of a drive back as fast you can before your father figure bleeds out in the backseat test. They had taken a road trip to Star City in that car, Jason driving for one half and Bruce driving the rest. They had eaten burgers in the front seat and watched a movie on Bruce’s laptop in the back, wasting time before Bruce had to meet with Ollie over some stupid business deal that Wayne Enterprises ended up rejecting.

Jason had slept in the backseat on the return trip, head lolling against the window, a bit of drool slipping out from the corner of his mouth as the sunset over the freeway, the light reflecting gently off the little red roots at the top of his head. Bruce had stumbled forward and ran his fingers across the seat where Jason had sat as if reaching back in time to run his fingers through his son’s hair. Alfred had found him in the morning, sleeping in the backseat with dried tear tracks on his face. He had not touched the car since that day. A common theme with Bruce’s grief. He had held the repaired Robin suit for days feeling empty until he sealed it in glass, never to be touched again. He had laid in Jay’s bed clinging onto Jay’s hoodie for two weeks, hardly moving, only stumbling to go to the bathroom or sitting up to eat whatever Alfred had brought him. Then he had never stepped foot in there again, trusting Alfred to keep Jay’s room safe.

The car was Jason’s even if he had never given it to him. It was his to take and use or crash as he wished. Jason could change his bedroom in any way he wanted, and burn everything in it if he wanted. It was his and it didn’t matter how Bruce’s insides would burn, how his eyes would sting for the son he lost because Jason was back and all of it was his. He could smash the glass case and shred the Robin suit and all Bruce would want was for Jason to let him hold him for a little. If he could only hold him for a little, feel his beating heart against Bruce’s hand, let Jay be real and alive in his arms instead of broken and dead. He closed his eyes, arms weighed down by a body that wasn't there.

“Master Bruce… Master Bruce!” Alfred shouted, snapping Bruce from his thoughts.

“Ugh, yes,” he bit his lip at his awkwardness. “What is it?”

“Your lunch is ready, sir,” examining Bruce with what felt like one-quarter concern and three-quarters of judgment. “Will you be partaking of the meal in your study or the dining room with the children?”

“Who’s here today?”

Alfred took a breath in as if restraining himself from asking why it mattered as if Bruce was going to make his decision based on which of his children were present. Bruce felt guilty because he had, in the past, opted not to eat in the dining room when Tim and Damian were present without Dick. He often failed to defuse their arguments as well as failed in determining when they were conversing and when they were fighting. It sounded so similar, made him feel the same nervousness.

“Master Timothy, Master Damian, and Master Duke are in the dining room already. Mistress Cassandra called an hour ago to inform me that she had safely gotten on her flight and Master Richard is in the gym again. I will attempt to wrangle him into eating after you give your preference, sir but I’m afraid he may be too distracted to eat again.”

“Again?” he asked, alarmed. Had Dick been missing meals too? He should have considered it. Dick always had trouble eating when he was upset or stressed. “How many meals has he missed?”

“He skipped breakfast on Tuesday, only ate half his lunch on Wednesday, missed both breakfast and lunch Thursday but attempted to make up for it by chugging three of your protein shakes, and he missed dinner yesterday.”

Bruce put his head in his hands. How had he missed this with Dick dragging him to the store almost every single day? Why had he not questioned the lack of food court stops? They had never stopped for pretzels or icees, or unapproved junk food. Dick hadn’t even dragged him into the candy store.

“I’ll join the kids in the dining hall. Don’t bother getting Dick, I’ll get him.”

Alfred hummed as if to say “I should damn well expect so you stupid boy.”

Bruce walked swiftly to the gym, half sprinting once he was out of Alfred’s sight and hearing range. As had become unfortunately familiar, Dick was not soaring through the air but instead was on the floor in the middle of some push-ups. He did not want to know how long he had been doing push-ups because it was probably some number that even Bruce would find outrageous.

“Dick, it’s time for lunch.’

“In… in a minute,” he panted. “I just need to do twenty more.”

“No. It’s lunchtime. If you’re going to be working this hard you need to eat more.”

“Bruce---”

“You’ve skipped at least one meal every day this week, Dick!” he scolded. “If you’re going to keep this up you have to eat more or I’ll cut your gym access.”

Dick tried to protest again, dragging himself to his feet. He pointed out that he was an adult and Bruce can’t tell him what to do. Bruce scoffed. If Alfred was delivering this ultimatum, Dick wouldn’t have protested. 

“You can’t keep doing this. It’s not healthy.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. He glared back, annoyed. Dick was right in that Bruce had done worse himself but Dick was his son, not him. Dick shouldn’t be making Bruce’s same dumb mistakes when he had already proven how dumb they were.

“You were the one who taught me pushing my body this hard,” gesturing at Dick’s strained muscles and flushed face. “Is unhealthy and will screw you over. You’re going to hurt yourself if you continue doing this.”

Dick picked up his towel and wiped the sweat off his face. “You’re right… I just really want to up how much I can lift. It’s important.”

He put his hand on Dick’s shoulder, carefully making sure not to wince at the thick layer of sweat, and gave him a gentle squeeze. “I understand but you won’t get there by rushing. Take your time.”

Dick smiled at him and nodded.

“Want to go shopping after lunch? I was thinking about hitting up a thrift store this time.”

He did not want to go shopping again but he agreed because he was weak. So weak.

  
  


The wind burned against his face as he grappled through Crime Alley. He had looked through all of Jason’s other safe houses and unless he had acquired a new one Bruce didn’t know about, Jay had to be in this one. His certainty cemented further as he spotted Jason’s car parked a few blocks away from the building and he made his way towards Jason’s fourth story window with confidence.

After disabling the traps and entering the empty apartment his confidence died. Not because Jay wasn’t there, or because there weren’t any signs of anyone living there but instead because he realized he didn’t know what to say to Jason. What should he say? Do you like the car? How have you been eating?  _ Are you mad at me? _

He wandered over to the bedroom, peeking inside to check if Jay was sleeping but he wasn’t there. He went back out to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was well stocked and a far cry from the disaster of a fridge Dick kept at his apartment. The milk was not expired and none of the vegetables were rotting. Jason had a few beers in the door which Bruce frowned at but didn’t touch, choosing to examine the food in the Tupperware. It wasn’t leftovers. He hadn’t realized Jason prepped his meals ahead of time. He supposed it made sense. Jason could get fairly busy with cases and didn’t have Alfred like he did nor was as satisfied as Dick with eating microwave meals.

He heard the safety coming off a gun behind him but he didn’t bother turning around. 

“What are you doing here old man? You stealing my food? I expect that shit from Cass, not you unless that’s Dickalous under the cowl right now,” Jason quipped as he walked closer, the gun most likely still pointed at Bruce’s back.

“It’s me,” he replied.

Jason snorted. “I know, you weirdo. You’re too tall to be Dick.”

Bruce turned around and was a little surprised to see that the gun was not pointed at his face but was pointed at the ground. Catching his line of vision Jason put the safety back on and placed the pistol on the table. He removed his helmet, his black and white curls ruffled, eyes letting off a soft green illumination. Bruce removed his cowl and sat down at the table, a move that resulted in Jason giving him an odd look. Jason walked past him to the cabinet and pulled out two cups.

“Water?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Jason set the filled glass in front of him and took a seat across from him. He grabbed the gun and began to dismantle it, pulling a cleaning kit from a hidden nook under the table.

“What ya need?”

“Uh, well,” he began. “You’ve been avoiding me. Did I---”

Jason froze in his movements and barked out a firm “No.”

He repeated it more softly and looked Bruce in the eyes.

“No. You didn’t, well you did… I found the card, in the car Bruce.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I was mad but now I don’t know how I feel. I wish you had said something back then.”

He wished he had said something too. Maybe Jason wouldn’t have died if he had said something. Wouldn't have ran away, if he had said something.

“But we can’t go back to then. It’s as Wolfe says. You can’t go back home again.”

“Jason,” he tried to protest but Jason plowed forward, eyes glassy.

“I know… I know you said that it didn’t matter if I did it. If I  _ killed _ Felipe Garzonas but the kid you wrote that to didn’t and hadn’t killed all the people I’ve killed. The Bruce who wrote that letter hadn’t lost that kid yet. I’ve changed. You’ve changed. We can never get back what we had back then. It’s no longer just me, Alfie, and you in the manor with Dickie off in ‘haven. Everyone’s carved their spot in the manor and my carving is too small for who I am now.”

“Jaylad, there’s still a place for you. I want you there.”

“The card wasn’t the only reason, of course. Didn’t want to be dragged back to the cave after what happened,” Jason said, seemingly changing the subject.

Bruce swallowed roughly. Things were going well. Jason hadn’t yelled yet but would that end if he asked.

“What happened?”

Jason blinked. “They didn’t tell you.”

Bruce hesitated before answering. He wasn’t sure if Jason would be upset that Tim had told him. Things had gotten better for the two despite the murder attempts and he didn’t know if Jay would appreciate Tim talking to Bruce about Jason.

“Tim said you were upset. He refused to tell me why.”

Jason looked away, licking his lips. He made a half aborted reach for his cup before he seized it and took a long sip. He glanced back at Bruce running his eyes up and down Bruce like he was trying to parse if Bruce was lying about what Tim told him.

“Dickie, he asked me if I wanted to swing and I thought he was messing with me, mocking me,” he paused at Bruce’s confused expression and started again. “Do you remember when I was Robin, and Dick would come down? We’d wait for you to get dressed and while you were in the lockers, Dick would swing me on his arm. He said that you used to do it with him when he was a kid.”

“I did it with you too.”

Jason stiffened and tightened his grip on his cup. “I don’t remember that.” He sounded regretful like he had purposefully forgotten.

Bruce wanted to reassure him. Tell him it was okay. That it didn’t matter if he remembered but he was scared if he interrupted again Jason would ask him to leave. Scream at him to get out. Jason didn’t feel comfortable talking about his memories and the fact that he had chosen to regale Bruce with a memory from before his death should have been a sign for Bruce to tread carefully. But he had fucked it up. He hoped his silence was comforting instead of condemning because he lacked the words to make this right. There were no words that could make it right. He didn't know if he had the words to make it right.

“Anyway, I thought he was messing with me because … I’m too big. He’s shorter than me now, and I weigh too much. And… It’s a Robin tradition now. It was our thing and I can never do it with him again.”

Bruce felt like Bane had just slammed him into a wall. Dick’s behavior made so much more sense now. All the clothes they looked at were Jason’s size, a mix of what he used to wear and what he did now. The clothes in Jay’s room wouldn’t fit. Dick’s new weight lifting obsession. An attempt to allow Jason and Dick to swing like they used to.

“Dick wants to do it with you.”

“He can’t!” Jay snapped, rising from his chair.

“He’s been lifting weights. Training harder. I didn’t know why. He wouldn’t say the real reason.”

Jason froze and mumbled a question Bruce couldn’t hear. His mind returned to what Jay had said about not fitting, not being able to return home. The clothes. The paint. The shelves. The computer.

“Jaylad, we want you to fit, to return home, even if it isn’t the same. You’re right, you're different. I’m different but I still love you. Come back to the manor. Redecorate that mausoleum of a room. Fill the draws with new clothes. Carve a bigger hole.”

Bruce clenched his right fist. Had he ruined everything? Carve a bigger hole? What sort of cheesy garbage was that?

Jason lunged forward and Bruce found himself in a tight hug. He almost cried. It had been so long since he had hugged Jay. He brought his left hand up to Jason’s hair and ran his fingers through his hair like he wanted to do in that car on the sixteenth birthday that had never happened. He held Jason close through the boy’s small sobs and questions. Through the promises and the agreement that Jay could smash his memorial.

He would give in to any demand if it let Jason know that he loved him, that he was wanted.

“Thanks, Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me your thoughts down below or if you think there are any tags that should be added.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason gets to swing with his big brother at long last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very fluffy stuff happens that makes me feel soft. Thank you all for reading and your wonderful comments. I hope the ending I've delivered follows through on your amazing expectations and praises. :)

“Come on, Little Wing! Let’s swing!”

“No,” Jason grumbled from his desk chair, setting up his new computer.

Dick pouted and started flexing, that dork. “I pulled out some bigger guns just for you.”

“Still too short, Dickface,” he mumbled, feeling a bit numb at the thought.

It had been three weeks since he had talked to Bruce and he was still carefully changing his room. Even though Bruce had said it was okay, Jason couldn’t help but glance at Bruce every time he saw a change Jason had made, checking his expression when he mentioned something he had changed. Bruce had not seemed angry with anything Jason had done so far, only smiling sadly.

He had tossed most of his old clothes, only boxing up his old hoodie with care. He filled the space with various outfits that Dick had helped him pick at the thrift store. Bruce smiled and told him he was glad Jason had more clothes at the manor.

He switched out his sitting room furniture with Duke’s help, dragging out a cherry table and some blue floral chairs from the East Wing. Bruce was glad that these pieces were seeing some use.

He had rearranged the room, sliding the bed against the far corner of the wall, away from the door and out of sight of the window, while Damian sketched layouts near the closet, snarking about Jason’s poor design choices. Bruce told him as long as he was happy with it, it was fine.

Every change was met with approval and it made him nervous. When he had gone down to the cave the first night, Bruce had handed him a pipe and stood back as he had smashed the case. He had handed Jason the kerosene and the lighter and held Jason as he cried in front of the burning suit. He just kept handing Jason things and smiling, and he didn’t know how to deal with it. How long would this amenableness last before Jason screwed it up again?

“We could do it over the railing in the cave?”

“Bruce would have a heart attack,” Tim snorted from Jason’s bed, scrolling through some shopping website on his tablet. “Hey, what do you think of this Wonder Woman poster? We could put it over the desk.”

Jason looked over at Tim’s tablet and reached out for it. Tim handed it over without pause and stared at Jason as he looked over the poster. He hummed as he looked down at the poster and up at the empty frame, Tim had gifted him. They had given him so many gifts. It made him feel warm, knowing they were trying to make him feel welcome but also scared. Could this last? He really wanted this to last. He knows if it doesn’t, if they leave him, denounce him, that part of him will never recover. If they leave him, after all of this, he will break along the cracks they sealed shut, losing pieces of himself that he will never be able to be put back.

“I like it,” he said, passing it back. “Put it in the cart.”

“How ‘bout the deck’s railing?”

Jason bit his lip. It could work, he supposed. He glanced over at Tim to gauge his reaction.

“Sounds good, if Jason’s down for it. If your arm spazzes out he can probably escape without breaking a bone.” Dick tackled Tim on the bed and started tickling him. Tim kicked out, missing Dick by a wide margin, shrieking as he tried to escape.

“Don’t think I can handle it, Timmy?”

“I was kidding, Get off!” he yelled, pushing his hand against Dick’s face. Jason snorted and closed settings. He smiled at the family photo that he had set for his home screen. He was in the center of the photo with Cass and Tim pulling themselves up onto his shoulders, grinning like loons. Duke was on his right, in front of Bruce, his smile tight, trying to hold back laughter. On his left Dick was on his tippy toes trying to throw bunny ears behind his head but was thrown off balance by Cass kicking at him, his fingers hovering between Jason and Cass. Jason was holding Damian up while Damian pouted at the camera, displeased at being held like a sack of potatoes. Behind Duke, Bruce had his hand on Duke’s shoulder leaning forward a bit, the picture capturing him mid-laugh.  _ Please let this last. _

Damian had been especially concerned about Bruce during the photo as he had never seen his Father laugh in such a manner, which Jason thought was probably the saddest thing he had ever heard. They used to laugh like that all the time. Jason had almost cried when Tim had given him a picture from back when his Robin, with Batman laughing to one of his jokes, his smile as big as the photo on the computer screen.  _ He wouldn’t let them fall apart again. He wouldn’t let himself shy away from them before he even tried. _

“Let’s try it.”

  
  


The noise they had made as they rushed to the patio had attracted the others and soon the entire family was out on the deck watching Dick and Jason with expressions ranging from concern to excitement. Bruce and Alfred sat at the table, both trying to appear unconcerned with the proceedings before them, body language mirroring each other revealing a glimpse of how long they had lived together with only the other for company. Cass and Steph were on the grass, a little bit away from the rail, Cass looking excited while Steph bounced up and down, the first aid kit in her hands. Duke and Tim stood next to them, Duke looking over Tim’s shoulder as he readied his camera to record his two older brothers. 

Damian was on the deck, frowning at the two of them, arms crossed. “This is foolish, Todd. You’re going to fall.”

Dick laughed and squeezed Damian’s shoulder. “Don’t worry Lil’D. I won’t drop him.”

Damian blushed and glared at Jason. “I’m not worried.”

Sure he wasn’t. Jason turned to look over the rail and carefully threw his legs over the side. It would be fine. He could do this. It would be fine. Dick would be fine. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t as fun as it used to be. He had a place here. Bruce had promised. Dick had promised. Everyone had assured him that they wanted him here, in every gift and action, they had promised Jason they wanted him. Dick and him could always find new things to do together. He wasn’t going to run away again.

“Ready, Little Wing?” Dick asked and it felt like he was back then, eyes caught on golden feathers that weren’t there.

“Of course, Dickiebird,” he replied, scared like he was about to fail at squeezing into his Robin costume.

Dick stuck out his arm and Jason jumped on, heart-catching as Dick’s arm dipped and rose at Jason’s weight. He sucked in a breath and began to swing, and everything went away, except for Jason and Dick.

A laugh burst from his throat, surprised, and filled with joy. Dick laughed and hollered “woos” and yelled encouragement Jason couldn’t make out. He took one last swing back and let go, soaring forward, moving through a flip. He felt like a bird again, like he was in short sleeves, and green shorts, the wind flapping through his cape, whistling past his ears.

One rotation. Robin and Nightwing eating ice cream on top of a bank near the Narrows, both so bright and alive. Promises of skiing and trips to Titans Tower filling the air between laughter and jests at failed rogue plots, and Two-face's latest botched robbery, Dick’s hand squeezing his shoulder.

Second rotation. Jason and Bruce standing in front of a bookstore, his face pressed against the glass looking at a toy train chugging around a miniature Gotham, Christmas lights glittering in the crisp cold air. Bruce’s hand in his hair, his deep laugh warming Jason’s chest as Bruce carried Jay’s books on his left arm, Alfred waiting for them down the street with a promise to let Jason help with the cookies.

Rotation three. Duke and Damian pressed against his sides as he showed them a more complicated maneuver on Damian’s Switch, sandwich clenched in his teeth, lettuce falling out into his lap. Three mugs of tea cooling on the coffee table, his demonstration ruined as Dick wrapped Jason in a hug from behind, pressing a kiss into Jason’s hair as three furious shouts rose through the den.

He stuck the landing and for a moment it was silent before applause rang out in the open space. He laughed again, eyes a little wet as his siblings rushed him. He fell forward, still laughing as Dick jumped on his back. Cass was next, smashing her lips against his forehead, showering him with the words “Little brother” making him feel small and cherished even though Cass was hardly bigger than Tim. Tim joined them next, digging his boney little fingers into Jason’s side, tickling him furiously. Damian crouched in front of Jason’s face, barely glancing at him.

“I guess this endeavor was not completely foolish,” he murmured. Jason laughed again, a lightness filling his chest as he grabbed Damian, holding him close as he squawked. A cold stream interrupted their laughter and Jason looked up shocked and betrayed to see Blondie and Duke leveling water guns at their pile, the first aid kit abandoned by Tim’s tripod.

He stood up, haphazardly shrugging off his other siblings, and pointed at the pair. “Get them!”

Duke froze and Stephanie grabbed his arm, pulling him away while everyone else made pursuit, only Tim and Damian bothering to rush at the bin at the bottom of the deck, taking out more super soakers.

The day ended with Jason heaving Steph and Duke over his shoulders and tossing them in the pool. Dick, Jason, and Cass laughed as Tim and Damian sprayed Duke and Steph’s heads as they resurfaced, their outraged cries bringing about more laughter. Looking back at the patio, Jason gave Bruce and Alfred a peace sign as they looked fondly on.

Jason would still sometimes forget how big he was now, falling further than he expected when sitting, heart-catching in his chest, and getting stuck in corners he shouldn’t squeeze into anymore but it was better now. It didn’t sting as much because his family would always make space for him. Making him feel safe and introducing him to new ways he could utilize his larger body. He would never be too big for them and no matter how he changed they could always do things together. Make new memories and play new games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope catharsis has been reached. Feel free to tell me your thoughts in the comments.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked that because I've got more chapters. Hopefully, the cushion I've created will make it easy to complete this fic on a schedule. Might be 4 chapters, maybe five. Please tell me if you think any tags are missing or there are any glaring mistakes.


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